Tuesday, December 16, 2014

On the way to daycare today December and I got in an
excellent discussion about character arc in movies.

She is four.

She loves princesses – Disney Princesses, of course.

So really we were analysing the princessinessitudeship of
the canon Disney princesses and comparing them to their peers.

What follows is a summary of our conclusions:

Snow White: Born a Princess. Has Princesshood stripped from
her. Regains it.

Cinderella: Not a Princess. Becomes a Princess through marriage.

Aurora (Sleeping Beauty to those of you not immersed in the Cult
of Princess.): Born a Princess. Not told she is a Princess. Returned to
Princesshood. (Though from her perspective she is like Cinderella in
Princess-arc, she is in fact more like Snow White.)

Ariel (“The Little Mermaid.”): Born a Princess. Sacrifices/Risks
Princesshood (depending on interpretation). Marries into an entirely different
Princesshood.

Belle: (That would be ‘Beauty’ as in “Beauty and the Beast.”)
Not a Princess. Becomes a Princess through marriage.

Jasmine (A rare non-titular Princess – from “Aladdin.”):
Born a Princess. Briefly pretends not to be a Princess. Stays a Princess – in fact
the Prince becomes a Prince because of her.

Pocahontas: Born a Princess. Stays a Princess. (Though it
bears mentioning that her title is never Princess – it is a cultural equivalent
of Chieftain’s Daughter. This is accepted in the canon without much question.)

Mulan: Technically never a Princess! Not even culturally
equivalent. But if we accept the general tropes of the Princesses and that she
is included as one of the Princesses in the canon by most measures and
subsequently re-align her arc with the parallel components then she progresses
as follows… Princess. Pretends to not be a Princess. Becomes a more Princessy
Princess than before.

Tiana (The Princess and the Frog): Not a Princess. Hooks up
with a Prince who has forsaken his Princehood… so really never becomes a Princess.

Rapunzel (You’ve probably heard of her though her film is
named the entirely unobvious “Tangled.”): Born a Princess. Taken away and not
told she is a Princess. Returned to Princesshood. (Basically the same as
Aurora, although in a much more progressive and watchable film.)

Princess Merida (From “Brave” – to the point where lots of
people mistakenly call her ‘Brave.’): The

first Disney/Pixar Princess,
incidentally. Born a Princess. Stays a Princess. Tells the Princes to sit and
spin.

Princess Anna (Perhaps you’ve heard of the indie-darling art-house
film “Frozen” – which actually gave us two Princesses.): Born a Princess. Stays
a Princess. Has an older sister and (SPOILER) hooks up with a commoner, so is
destined to remain a Princess.

Princess Elsa (also from “Frozen.”): Born a Princess.
Becomes a Queen (Basically a Princess who has levelled-up, so same thing but…
more.) Eschews Princess/Queenhood in favour of Ice-Queen/Princesshood (AKA
Being a Hermit.) Returns to regular Queen/Princesshood but is ‘out’ as an
Ice-Queen/Princess.

Anyway…

Not really any great insights there, but it was a lot of fun
to break it down with my kid.

Wednesday, August 13, 2014

When I heard the news about Robin Williams' suicide, my first thought was "of course." That was mixed with a very instant and heart rending sadness.
I'm not going to try to gloss over the fact that he made a metric fuck ton of shit in his career - perhaps even more shit than good - but the good, the great was game changing. I say this as someone who was unmoved by Garp,Mrs. Doubtfire, Good Morning Vietnam or Dead Poets' Society. Take those four off the board and there is still Jumanji, Aladdin, Good Will Hunting, Awakenings and that time he broke how situation comedies worked... Mork and Mindy. With that kind of resume, who cares that he also did Toys, Jack, Death to Smootchy and, yes, The Crazy Ones? He had plenty to take pride in. And yet... Fame, fortune, awards and accolades, respect and love meant jack shit in the end.
It wasn't exactly a secret that he was troubled, yet most of us managed to ignore it. But looking back... Mork's smile seems pretty forced, and most of his most brilliant (and even joyous) roles (even those I felt unmoved by) were all deeply steeped in melancholy. He was the Charlie Chaplin of the turn of the 20th/21st Centuries. A genius comic, whose comic insight was born in an immortal sadness that also made him a great dramatic actor.
All of a sudden it seems a miracle we had him around as long as we did.
This is going to sound bad at first, but perhaps his death by his own hand was the right way for him to go - his last blessing upon the world. Perhaps the spotlight that his death is putting upon depression is what the illness needs. A bit perhaps like Rock Hudson did for the AIDS crisis. It's not quite the right comparison, but its about as close as we are likely to find.
I never met Robin Williams, but I do have an odd and ironic connection to him. Ask me about it some day - this isn't the place. But none the less, when I got the news, I quit thinking of Robins Williams in terms of Hook, Club Paradise, RV and the other detritus that fills up his body of work - 'cause that stuff doesn't matter. Those are the performances that happen when someone is willing to take a risk - and his entire career was built upon taking those kinds of leaps. Every now and then his leaps would lead to something like The Fisher King - a performance of divine beauty... and that (to be selfish for a moment) is what we are really being robbed of. And for that I cried. In public. It was small, but I couldn't hide it. A cashier at the toy store I was in brought me a tissue (I credit her for being really observant) and I coaxed my daughter outside, where she asked me "Daddy, why are you talking funny?" I don't think I could possibly explain to her the loss I felt - so many of us felt these past two days. I urged her to go play in the waterpark, while hundreds of other people also ran about gleefully too - clearly none of them had received the news....

Monday, May 26, 2014

“A
Fairytale you can’t read to your kid, but if you paraphrased it and took out all
of the inappropriate digressions and language, they would probably enjoy.”

Once upon…
whatever, you know the format…

There was a
Princess named Crystal…

Of course
her name is Crystal.
It totally had to be Crystal. Which is SO on
the fucking nose, if you didn’t already realize it. This IS after all a
fairytale called “The Glass
Princess,” that level of obviousness is just derigeur. Think about it – Cinderella?
Puh-leeze! Maleficent? Fractionally better. Prince Charming? Honestly? My birth
certificate might as well read “Snarky Writer.” So yeah, her frikkin’ name is Crystal.

So Crystal,
who is still too young to take the throne – is taken care of by her aunt, the
evil witch Sathar.[2] Sathar
had been second in line to her brother to take the throne until Crystal was
born, but blah blah blah… line of succession dee blah… the kid screwed it up
for her. Hell, Sathar was probably responsible for the King and Queen’s death,
but that’s not really important – all it serves in the narrative is to make her
more evil, but that ought not be necessary because her name is frikkin’ Sathar and names don’t come more wicked
than that… except maybe Maleficent – gotta give Mauswitz that one. Either way, Sathar could only have grown up
to be a witch or to lead a death metal band. Given that this happened in the early 19th
Century at the most recent, there wouldn’t have been a lot of amplification
around, so the latter was extremely unlikely.

Soooo…
parents die, evil witch becomes the Regent and one day not too
much later Crystal
is mysteriously turned into glass… Gee, I wonder how that happened?

But for
some reason, Crystal,
despite being having been turned into an amorphous solid is still mobile and
sentient. And for some other reason that subscribes to the fairytale logic of
“maybe if we ignore it, no one will question it” – rather than just kill
Crystal outright when nobody is paying attention (it worked for Richard the
III), Sathar decided that it was best to turn the only person between her and
the throne into something really fragile and just hope that she would do
herself in by random chance while descending stairs in an over-tired state. Just
go with it – I could probably make sense of it if I really cared.[3]

Fortunately
someone really close to Crystal – possibly sentient piece of furniture, or a
talking animal, or maybe just a strict but fun-loving nanny with a really
amusing song with lots of nonsense words at the beginning of the second act –
had the good sense (and for some reason the authority) to confine Crystal to
her bedroom for… well, ever. And then the whole place was covered in wall to
wall carpets and tapestries and every chair was upholstered in thickly padded
chenille, or something similarly unthreatening.

Crystal spends the next few years locked up
in a padded room for her own good… and it is boring, so I’m only taking up this
one mention of it. It sucks for her and it would suck for us if we were
burdened with the details.

But, lucky
Crystal, her aunt Sathar is cool – or pretends to be. Sathar feels her pain. Being a proto-Goth, Sathar understands the
tedium and goes out of her way to bring some fun into the little glass girl’s
world.

After years
of waiting in vain for the kid to trip and shatter, Sathar starts sneaking up
to her room in the middle of the night and bringing her down to the Great Hall
to play on its hard marble floors. And
somehow Crystal
always seems to barely avoid disaster ‘cause she is plucky, lucky and dextrous.
Sathar encourages her to let her spirit free, to be bold and adventurous… but
when that fails to get results night after night Sathar really starts to lose
her shit.[4]

Sometime
around here the Kingdom is visited by the Prince of Somewherelseistan who is on
tour with his band or looking for eligible princesses[5]
or conducting important trade talks (‘cause that is exactly what every
children’s story needs is a good section about commerce – just ask George
Lucas.) One night, struck by a bout of sleeplessness[6]
the wandering Prince heard noise from the Great Hall and he came to watch from
a loge.[7]
He became immediately entranced by the transparent Princess[8]
as she chased a rubber ball across the floor of the hall. So he watched her from above night after night – which in modern times would be
creepy and borderline illegal, but in antiquity was romantic.

Then one
night Sathar had had enough and got fed up. She waited until Crystal was standing in front of the window
and ran at her with her arms outstretched – apparently she had no magic in her
repertoire that would provide a solid nudge.[10]
The Prince watching from above saw what was happening and gasped. Crystal heard him and
looked up, distracting herself from the rubber ball which she stepped on and
fell over, cracking her cheek on the marble. Sathar, arriving at the empty
space where Crystal
had been moments before, tripped on her niece and went tumbling out the window…
again conveniently lacking appropriate magic to prevent herself from toppling
to her grizzly death a hundred feet below on the rocks.

The Prince
rushed to Crystal’s
side.[11]
She took one look at him and the improbable meeting of hearts (AKA “lust”)
occurred again, just in time to neatly wrap up the narrative in a convenient
little bow.

The Prince
kissed her see-through lips and…. Okay now that I’ve used those words –
“see-through” – I realize I never addressed how Crystal dressed. Its not specifically germane, and thus I
didn’t really think of it. But if she was practically invisible one would have
to wonder how much she cared about what she wore.[12]
And that would become immediately
relevant when the Prince kissed her because, as always happens, that disrupts
the magic and poof Crystal is suddenly
transformed back into a normal girl… but with a cute little dimple where her
cheek got cracked. No details after this matter whatsoever until we get to…

Happily
Ever After.

[1]Yeah, it’s the oldest cliché in the
fairytale universe, but here’s the thing – reality check – it has to be that
way. In most cases at least. If the parents were in the picture, either they
would solve the issue or there never would have been an issue in the first
place. Snow White. Mom lives? No evil queen marries into the family. Ditto with
Cinderella. Frozen? If Mom and Dad are around to solve the dispute then the
film doesn’t happen… or they are the worst parents ever.

[2]Chances are you didn’t “get” that.
But assuming you did… Yay Star Frontiers! I miss that game. I went looking for
an appropriate evil name for the villain and an unanticipated detour landed me
on a website about Star Frontiers.

[3] Okay,
okay! Something like:
“Everyone in the kingdom would know that Sathar was the number one suspect, and
once she had been exposed as a murderer she would be forced to abdicate the
throne (to the number three person in the line of succession who otherwise has
SFA to do with this story.)” Of course that does leave the question open of why
Crystal’s aunt, the witch went entirely without
suspicion when Crystal
mysteriously was turned into a block of glass.

[5]I totally want to pluralize
“princesses” as “princessii” even though there is absolutely no grammatical
sense to it. It could just as erroneously be “princessa” or “princessae” or
“princessatae” or “princesseax” or “princeves” or “princessieus” or
“princessera” or “princesseries” or “princesseren” or STOP! Just stop it. Stop.
…Thank you.

[8]No clumsy metaphor intended. It simply isn’t there to be had… but if
someone doing a screen adaptation can make it work; Hey, more power to ya!

[9]This may be somewhat
deconstructionist, but Frozen already let the air out of the “love at first
sight” trope. So I’m stuck with either blantantly retreading that single
example, or acquiescing to the demands of the genre… which is also by
definition retreading – and in so doing actually copying far more works than
the single outlier. Funny, that.

[10]This would not have been an issue
for a Jedi. However, on the other side
of the coin, there is no Jedi Mind Trick that will turn anyone into glass, so
circumstances would have never got to this point. Force-choking on the other
hand….

[11]Which if you think about it,
probably took an agonizingly long time due to the architectural vagries of
classical castle construction, but only takes a moment on the page or courtesy
of non-linear editing software.

[12]It has been pointed out, quite
rightly, that I dropped the ball here. Of course Crystal is clothed. Its a frikkin’ marketing
opportunity. The Mouse House wouldn’t have made that error. Every single one of their princesses has a
TM’ed look that withdraws cash or credit directly from the pockets of the
parents of four year old girls everywhere.
Of course Crystal
has her own unique dress… but I can guarantee it isn’t cellophane with clear
trim.

Thursday, February 27, 2014

The essential measure of any documentary film is whether its core subject is interesting - or, if broken down a stage further, is it both informative and entertaining?

Tim's Vermeer broadly speaking meets with success on both parameters.
Of course you can't please everyone, and not everyone will be interested in inventor Tim Jenison's obsessive quest to duplicate a work of Johannes Vermeer by mechanical means using only the materials available to the Dutch Master himself. The description of the film falls short of piquing my interest, despite having personally experienced a moment of profound artistic reverie seeing one of Vermeer's works (the uncharacteristic exterior The Little Street)at the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam. However, put the film in the hands of Penn & Teller (the latter directs while the former acts as narrator), and now I'm curious.

Is it informative? Certainly. I learned about Vermeer of course, but really what Tim's Vermeer offers is a fairly geeky (the good brand of geeky) deconstruction of the science and the obsession behind Jenison's quest.
Entertaining? Usually. However this is ultimately where the film fails when placed against the "is it interesting?" yardstick. For the majority of its run time the film finds ways to amuse, but relatively late in the game it fails in what strikes me as a rather obvious and one would think thusly-avoidable manner. From early on it is demonstrated that Jenison's technique - which is convincingly proposed as being a likely variation on that which Vermeer used - is slow and laborious. When it finally comes time for Jension to put brush to canvas and paint "Tim's Vermeer" (he selects The Music Lesson) in the last third of the film, the entirely wrong choice is made. Teller plays too much upon the tedium. Far too many a book, play and film has foundered on the rocks of trying to portray boredom effectively in an engaging manner, andTim's Vermeer sadly sails with them. Fortunately the rest of the film has much to intrigue, and a day later I am looking past its other faults to the questions it raises about the boundaries between art and science, inspiration and invention.

The film was apparently considered for an Oscar nomination and it can be easily seen both how it was in contention for nomination - it is thought provoking - and how it dropped the ball and came up short.
The failures ultimately revolve around Tim Jenison, although it wouldn't be fair to say they are his fault. Tim is clearly a brilliant guy - any dispute of this is laid to rest with his introductory biography. And he isn't ASD-alienating, Sheldon-Cooper-like brilliant.... at least not much. He is socially grounded, makes witty and accessible quips, and for the most part is relatable as a person. But that isn't quite the same as being an ideal central figure for a documentary. The catch of course is that without him - it is after all his brilliant insight that drives the entire film. Without him the film would be at least a tad fraudulent, and more likely, non-existent.
Jenison's brilliance manifests in the depth and detail his speech and as a result he needs editing, and no foresight was put into this fact when shooting his interview segments, resulting in a distracting number of jump cuts.
Also though Jenison is clearly moved by the completion of his goal - and rightfully so, it is an amazing feat and a commendable proof of concept - I felt nothing myself. Nothing about him evoked a feeling of empathy from me to him (and Jodie mocks me regularly about how easily moved I am) ...which seems like a pretty critical flaw for the end of the film.
But put my criticism aside, Tim's Vermeer has more to be said in its favour than against it. It gets my recommendation for anyone with an interest in either art, science or Penn & Teller.... or even those relatively few folk who know already how Tim Jenison changed the world before he ever picked up a paint brush.

Wednesday, January 22, 2014

This came up on Facebook recently, and I'm posting it here mostly to fill in some blanks in some people's awareness.

Many people who know me know that I spent a big chunk of my 20s touring Canada in a comedy troupe called "The Juanabees." Those were some cool times. At one point we were called "Canada's best comedy troupe without a TV show" - which at that point put us third to CodCo and Kids in the Hall. But in the same year we were also mocked heavily by haters, so let's not forget that here I am 20 years later and no one outside of my circle of friends remembers the Juanabees.

What follows is the full script of our fourth show. It was variously called "Sitcom" (as it had been conceived as a 90 minute sitcom put on stage) and at other times (at Canadian Fringe Festivals) "Three Young Hitlers in a Baggie" which was a promotional riff on the names of some of the more popular shows from previous shows on the Canadian Fringe Festival circuit.

This show was the artistic high-water mark for the Juanabees, though the main tour was one of our roughest - but that is a story for another time.

The play was outlined over the course of a dozen meetings with myself, Rob Fredrickson and my main collaborator through my years with the Juanabees, Norm McConnell. I fleshed out the script before it was workshopped by Rob, Norm, myself as well as our director and stage manager, Matthew Bissett and Mike Rinaldi, who joined the team on short notice and only made the show better.

This version of the script is a representation of the show in its final version - about three years after its original run and three separate mountings with various cast configurations. This does represent the "best" version of the show, though there were definitely gags which worked better the first time around than the last. "X-Files!" in the first scene was originally "'Trek's on!" and I am not convinced that the (then) update of cultural reference was worth the change. Also many of the visual gags, are at best only implied here and just don't have the impact they did live.

After this show's last tour I left the company to pursue other things. Norm carried on for a while with the Juanabees, notably creating a serialized sequel to this which I was never able to see, but did get to read some scripts of which were very funny. As to this script, it still makes me laugh, even though it is getting dated and there are bits that I am proud to have contributed to the history of Canadian comedy.

The Street: A secluded
section of street illuminated by a single street light.

The various settings should be easily changed in only a few
moments of blackout. Maintaining the speed of the action is more important than
the accuracy or detail of the set, so either a large stage with separate areas
for each set piece or on a smaller stage the set should be as universal as
possible.

BLACKOUT ONE:

"Funky Town" by Pseudo Echo begins.

Blair: It's Blair Faire on the air on WFUZ
flash in the pan radio. It's the drive at five on this sunny afternoon and I
can't believe the heat in the bowl. We're all going to be sleeping without our
sheets tonight. Here's one of my favourite one hit wonders. It's Pseudo Echo
with Funky Town....

Music continues and fades.

SCENE ONE:

No. 13 Cecelia Blvd. - Evening

Teak is sitting alone in the living room. He
is perched over top of the telephone. After several moments he pounces upon it.

Teak: Hello.

He hangs up, waits and pounces again.

Teak: Hello?

And again.

Teak: Hello? Is anybody there?

Mark enters.

Teak: Hello?

Mark: What are you doing?

Teak: You know how sometimes you pick up the
phone and there's already someone on the line even though it hasn't rung yet?

Mark: You're trying to do that?

Teak: Yeah.

Mark: Why?

Teak: Maybe they'll think I'm psychic.

Mark sighs and leaves.

Teak: Hello? Hello?

Nigel: (Offstage.) Teak!

Teak: Hello?

Nigel enters.

Nigel: Teak?

Teak: Hello? Is anybody there?

Nigel: Oh for God's sake. Teak!

Nigel snatches the phone from Teak and hangs it up.

Teak: Hey!

Phone rings.

Teak: Oh!

Nigel: Hello?

Teak: Ahhk!

Nigel: Dale! Phone!

Dale: (Offstage.) Got it!

Nigel hangs up.

Nigel: We've got to talk.

Teak: No we don't.

Nigel: Yes we do.

Teak: No we don’t.

Nigel: Yes we do.

Teak: Eat and breathe.

Nigel: What?

Teak: Eat and breathe. If we don't eat and
breathe we will die.

Nigel: What does that have to do with...?

Teak: You said we have to talk. We don't. We
have to eat and breathe. If we don't eat and breathe, we die. We don't have to
talk.

Nigel: That's not what I mean....

Teak: Monks.

Nigel: Monks?

Teak: Monks don't
talk, they don't die.

Nigel: Yes, alright! Look, you have to
do the dishes.

Teak: No I don't.

Nigel: Yes you do.

Teak: No I don't.

Nigel: Yes you do.

Teak: Bushmen.

Nigel: Bushmen?

Teak: Bushmen
don't even have dishes, they don't die.

Nigel: Yes, but it's your turn to do the
dishes.

Teak: So?

Nigel: We all agreed we'd do the dishes when
it's our turn.

Teak:
What about you and Mark?

Nigel: Mark and I do the dishes when it’s our
turn.

Teak: I never see Dale doing the dishes.

Nigel: Nobody ever sees Dale at all. He never
leaves his room! How can he even make dishes if he never leaves his room?

Teak: I don't make dishes either.

Nigel: Yes you do!

Teak: I buy them.

Nigel: Ahh! You're being difficult.

Teak: You're getting mad.

Nigel: You're damned right I'm getting mad! I
get mad when you get difficult!

Teak: You're not making any sense.

Nigel: Is there any getting through to you
at all?

Teak: Huh?

Mark enters.

Mark: It's eight o'clock.

Nigel & Teak: X-Files!

Nigel and Teak sit and watch TV,
turning off the rest of the world. Mark begins writing in his diary.

Mark's Voice: Dear Diary, June 6th 1996. All told today has been a fairly average day.
I got up, went to school, came home and listened to Teak and Nigel argue. Not
that I'm complaining. If they weren't arguing, something would be askew...
askew? A-S-C-U... No. A-S-K-O... Hmmrn....

Mark addresses the audience directly.

Mark: To hell with this. There are easier
ways to deal with the exposition. Now where was I...?

Nigel: Teak, the point is moot. Darth Vader exists in an
entirely different cinematic reality. Even if Mulder could withstand The Force,
they'd never meet each other.

Teak: You under-estimate the power of the
dimensional vortex.

Nigel: Dimensional vortex? No such thing.

Teak: There is so. I learned it from the
Wisdom Troll.

Nigel: Oh for God's sake.

Mark: Ah yes, Teak and Nigel's arguments.They aren’t really arguments in the classic
sense of the word.For two people to
argue effectively, they both have to connect with what the other is saying. I
don't think Teak connects with anything anyone says.

Teak: Commercial!

Teak gets up and leaves.

Mark: Imagine a man conversing passionately
with a chimpanzee, and you've pretty much got the idea. Don't get me wrong.
Chimpanzees may be fairly intelligent, but they just don't have the same
priorities we do. Neither does Teak.

Teak returns from the kitchen. He is carrying
a bag of small dried fish like you would find in Chinatown.

Teak: Fish?

Mark: No.

Teak returns to TV-land.

Mark: He doesn't eat like normal people, he doesn't
dress like normal people, and he
certainly doesn't act like normal people....

Teak: You know how Mulder and Scully are
trying to prevent the earth from being invaded by an evil dimension?

Nigel: Yeah?

Teak: It's not true.

Nigel: No shit.

Teak: This is the evil dimension.

Nigel hits him.

Mark: And then there's Nigel. Y'know those
advertisements above your head on the bus? That's Nigel. He sells those spaces
for a living. Nigel and I go way back. I remember the first time I met him. It
was the first day of kindergarten. We were all supposed to be drawing pictures
of our homes and families. Nigel had been sent to the corner for drawing an
anatomically correct picture of his adoptive fathers. I hit him
in the head with the class hamster, and he just kind of opened up to me. He's
been my best friend ever since. It's a bit of chore sometimes though....

Nigel: Mark, do you think you and your
friends can keep it down? I'm trying to watch X-Files.

Mark: Sorry Nige.

Teak: Fish?

Nigel: No.

Mark: Nigel's honest, dependable, he's got
good fashion sense...

Nigel: Mark,
you are interrupting the show television was made for.

Mark: But, he's a little obsessive....

Nigel: MARK!

Teak: They're crunchy!

Nigel: PISS OFF!

Mark lowers his voice to a whisper.

Mark: And a little pushy.

Mark beckons the audience away from the
television and Nigel.

Mark: Nigel is the centre of his world.
Anyone or anything which doesn't revolve around him suffers his wrath. He's
passionate about every detail of his life. Every year at Christmas his fathers
send him a case of Maalox. He's tried therapy, but every psychiatrist he goes
to inevitably ends up taking a long sabbatical just as Nigel begins to feel
he's getting something out of it....

Nigel: Ahhh... Dana Scully, I'd do anything for her.

Teak: Fish?

Nigel: Thanks.

Mark: I have a
third roommate as well. Dale. You don't see him here, and you wouldn't even if
you sat there an entire week. Dale is endowed with the ability to not leave his
room. Actually, that's not true. I've seen evidence of him leaving his room.
His groceries get eaten, visitors come and go, I've heard him in the bathroom.
But I've never actually seen him. In fact if the police asked me for a
composite sketch of Dale it would probably end up looking like Mr.
Potato-Head... or maybe Ernest Borgnine. But as long as he pays the rent, I'm
happy, and my Mother is happy. She owns this house. She lives uptown. I manage
this place and freeload off of her while I work on my third bachelor's degree
at the University, and lie to the student loan people about my living expenses.
All in all, the situation suits me fine.

Nigel: Good episode. I liked the part where
Cancer Man got his face sucked off by the flying vampire pancakes.

Teak: Yeah, but space crabs don't really do
that.

Nigel: How do you know?

Teak: It happened to my uncle once.

Teak picks up the phone.

Teak: Hello?

Nigel grabs the phone from Teak.

Nigel: Teak!

Nigel and Teak scowl at each other. Teak
leaves.

Nigel: Mark, I've got a problem.

Mark: It's Teak isn't it?

Nigel: No, it's the dishes.

Mark: Maybe you should talk to them about it.

Nigel: Look, Teak never does his dishes, and
no matter how I appeal to him he still never does them.

Mark: Well, here's an idea Nige. Who's dishes
are they?

Nigel: They're mine, I bought them when we moved in.

Mark: Why don't you tell him that he can't
use your dishes anymore. That way he'll have to wash them for fear of being
caught.

Nigel: That's a good idea. That's a great idea! Teak! Hey, Teak!

Mark: Nigel, I wasn't serious.

Teak enters.

Nigel: Teak.

Teak: Nigel?

Mark: Nigel…

Nigel:
Mark. Teak…

Teak: Nigel.

Nigel: Look…

Teak: Mark.

Nigel: LOOK…

Teak: Dale!

Dale: (Offstage.) Yeah?

Mark: Nothing!

Phone rings.

Nigel: Mark?

Mark answers phone.

Mark: Yeah?
Dale!

Dale: (Offstage.) Got it!

Nigel: STOP IT!! Alright. Teak.

Teak: Nige...

Nigel: Ah! Look. If you aren't going to wash
your dishes, you aren't allowed to use them anymore. Got it?

Teak: Okay… Nigel.

Teak leaves.

Nigel: Well, that was easy.

Mark: Nigel's been having some trouble at
work lately. I think now would be an appropriate time to talk to him about it. Say
Nigel, did you get that promotion you were after?

Nigel: Don't get me started.

Mark: Nigel's immediate superior was found
dead in an alleyway last week. The
police suspect foul play. What's the matter Nige?

Nigel: I said don't get me started.

Mark: So you didn't get the job?

Nigel: I don't want to talk about it.

Mark: You sound upset.

Nigel: No I'm fine. I just don't want to talk about it.

Mark: So someone else got the job? Someone
less deserving than you?

Nigel: I didn't say that!

Mark: Are you feeling a little useless and
down on yourself?

Nigel: Shut-up!

Teak enters the room wearing boots covered in
duct tape – sticky-side out. He is sticking to the floor with every step.

Mark: What are you doing?

Teak: Vacuum is broken.

Mark: Ah.

Nigel: Oh for God's sake....

An old man bursts through the door.

Nigel: Oh no.

Mr. B.: What is this? What's going on here?
Who are you people? What are you doing in my house?

Randi: I would like to dedicate this to my
special friend at HappyMart. Please
play "Let's Go All the Way?"

Blair: Got a little 'Sly Fox' you'd like to get tropical with
eh, Randi?

Randi: Oh, you could be saying that twice!

"Let's Go All the Way" by Sly Fox fades in, then out
again.

SCENE TWO: The
Smudgy Pigeon - Evening.

Pat is wiping the bar.

Mark enters.

Mark: Ah! The Smudgy Pigeon; home of low life
beggars boozers and bar rats. You won't ever find a more wretched hive of scum
and villainy. We must be cautious. I only come here because it's the closest
bar to my house... and all my friends come here... and everybody knows my name.

Pat: Norm!

Mark: Mark.

Pat: Oh, right. What suits your fancy?

Mark: Draft, Pat.

Pat:
Sorry. The taps are down. The God - nyah! - blessed pumps are broken and of
course everybody wants draft. It's a real pain in the gynh! - flowers.

Mark: Make it a bottle of Canterbury.

Pat: You got it.

Pat leaves.

Mark:
That's Pat the barkeep here. Good guy really, but he's got a slight disorder.
He's got an inverted form of Tourette's Syndrome. It seems that whenever he's
upset about something he feels compelled to say nice things about it. It's
rather crippling at times, which only makes him more stressed. It can be really
disconcerting to see him throw a temper tantrum. Imagine Marilyn Manson using
Shakespeare's Sonnets as epithets.

Teak enters.

Teak: Hey Mark.

Mark: Hi Teak.

Teak: Guess what.

Mark: What?

Teak: No, no guess.

Mark: I don't know. You won a hundred bucks
on the 6-49?

Teak: Nope. Well, guess again.

Mark: I don't know
Teak. It could be any one of millions of things.

Teak: It starts with the letter 'T'.

Mark: I DON'T KNOW. What?

Teak: I quit my job.

Mark: That doesn't start with a 'T'.

Teak: Sure it does. 'Teak' - Me - I quit my
job.

Mark: I don't know whether to be sorry or
scared of you.

Teak: Oh, don't be sorry. It's a good thing.
And you know what the best part is?

Teak waits for a response from Mark. Mark
gives him a reprimanding look.

Teak: I fixed it so I can't ever go back.

Mark: How did you do that?

Teak: I put my bike lock on the outer door of
the dispatch office, and then I ate the keys. Now I can't get back in.

Mark: Teak! What about the people inside?

Teak: Don't worry. They've got a vending machine.

Mark: Teak, why would you even want to fix it so you can't go
back?

Teak: Temptation.

Mark: Excuse me?

Teak: Temptation. If I ever get the whim to
go back to a lousy job like that, I can't.

Pat: Right. Oh yeah, if you see that roommate
of yours, I've got a bone to pick with him.

Mark: How so?

Pat: That son of a - nygh! - foufou bunny
never tips. He comes in here, makes demanding orders, wants the pre-stuffed
burger with no green peppers. I have to cut the thing open and pick out every
last ­gnyk! - beautifully chunky pepper. He's a high maintenance patron. Fifty,
sixty dollar tabs and do I ever see a penny? No! He pays the bill and that's
it. I don't want to see him in here anymore if he isn't going to tip. I swear,
if he doesn't smarten up, I'm gonna wind up and give him a good - gnyh! - hug!

Mark: I'll have a word with him Pat.

Pat: Thanks.

Pat leaves.

Teak: Quick a pen! A pen! I need a pen!

Mark: Why what's going on?

Teak: I just got an idea for a perpetual motion device.

Mark: Uh, Teak...

Teak: I just have to figure out what I'll use for fuel.

Nigel enters.

Nigel:
Pat! Vodka! Straight up.
Make it a double.

Pat enters.

Pat: We don’t serve doubles.

Nigel: Then make it a triple.

Pat: You know I can't do that.

Nigel: Well, give me two singles in the same glass.

Pat: Alright.

Pat leaves. Nigel joins Mark and Teak.

Nigel: Citizens.

Mark: Hey Nige, what's eating you?

Nigel: What do you mean?

Mark: You never order a double.

Nigel: Sure I do. Pat just never gives them to me.

Pat enters with drink.

Pat: Ahh! Go soak your - kgnn! - porcelain caste cheeks,
Sunshine.

Nigel: Poke me pansy. (Downs his shot.) I'll
see you guys at home.

Nigel leaves.

­

Pat: Why, he
didn't pay at all! Why that - yneg! -
golden god of heavenly wonder! I oughta - gkak! -
wine and dine him like a lady should!

Pat leaves.

Teak: What's with him?

Mark: I don't know.

Teak: Someone sure shoved his belly weasel on
the wrong side of the snow muffin.

Blair:
And now it's time for a WFUZ flash in the pan radio 23.5 second news update.
Brought to you by the Smudgy Pigeon. On the lighter side of the news, the staff
of a downtown courier company were mysteriously locked with a bike lock in
their dispatch office overnight. Nobody was injured in spite of the poor
circulation in the overnight heat. Also in the news this morning, a body was
found in the city streets when a dog pulled the carcass out of an alleyway in
front of Al's fruit market. Police are issuing a statement for the press later
this afternoon. And now, back to the music....

"The Freshman" by The Verve Pipe fades in and out
again.

SCENE THREE: HAPPYMART - MORNING

An entrance bell rings. Mark enters.

Buddy: Good morning my friend. Welcome to
HappyMart.

Mark: Good morning
Buddy. (To audience.) This is HappyMart, the neighbourhood convenience store,
video rental outlet and Lance and Willow's Rice-o-teria. (Buddy is confused and
can't figure out who Mark is talking to.) Lance and willow are latter-day hippies.
They own the franchise. Pretty much all they eat is rice. They import it from
around the globe, but only sell it to their closest friends. This is where we
come for all our personal grocery needs, in spite of the three hundred percent
mark up. But it's convenient, that's why they call it a convenience store.

Buddy: Is there anything I can help you with?

Mark: No thanks
Buddy, I'm just getting breakfast and a newspaper.

Buddy: Ah, breakfast. Can I suggest Eggos?
Aisle three.

Mark: No.

Buddy: McCainine Microwavable Minute Bacon?
It's in the freezer case.

Mark: No, I think I'd rather have cereal.

Buddy: Cereal. Multi-grain Wheat-o-Bix?

Mark: No.

Buddy: Captain Sugar Mallows?

Mark: No.

Buddy: Choco-Frosted Margarine Balls.

Mark:
Thanks, I'd rather have something healthier Ah!
Fruity Crunch Jell-O-Flakes! I love this stuff. It stays crunchy and when you
add milk, it turns into a rainbow of colours.

Buddy: Will that be all?

Mark: No. (Lowering
his voice conspiratorially.) Do Lance and
Willow have any good stuff in?

Buddy: We just got a shipment of Thai long
grain.

Mark: Is it any good?

Buddy: It's hydroponic man.

Mark: How much?

Buddy: Twenty bucks a gram.

Mark: Mmmm. Too rich for my blood. Got any of
that basmati left?

Buddy: No, but we've got some Uncle Ben's in aisle two.

Mark: Never mind.

Buddy: Taking the day off again Mark?

Mark: Yeah, Teak and Nigel are at work. I've
got the house all to myself.

Buddy:
Ah, house to yourself. You'll be wanting a magazine then. The new issue of
'Shaved Mound' just came in. It comes with a free, pull-out, twelve foot, glow
in the dark, scratch 'n' sniff ceiling poster. It's the magazine for guys with
acute Freudian problems.

Mark: No. Newspaper will be fine.

Buddy: Newspaper comes with a complimentary coffee.

Mark: No, no that's quite alright.

Buddy: It's free. It comes with the newspaper.

Mark: No, I'm really not a fan of the coffee
here.

Buddy: Here take it. Take it.

Mark: No.

Buddy: It's fresh.

Mark: I don't care! I don't want any!

Buddy: Lance and Willow watch the security
video tapes. If you don't take the coffee, I'm in big trouble.

Buddy: Yes I
guess I'll have to rectify that (He
pulls out a shot gun. Mark grabs his stuff and runs from the store.) Have a
nice day!

Scene.

BLACKOUT FOUR:

I
Don't Like Mondays by the Boomtown Rats fades in as it is coming to an end.
Blair Faire sings the last few words, mocking the plaintiveness of Bob Geldof's
vocal.

Blair: …the…whole…day…down. Yeah. This is
Blair Faire on the air and that was the Boomtown Rats with “I Don't Like
Mondays." Another one from the 'Who cares where they are now file.' This
is WFUZ Flash in the Pan Radio. Now let's go back to 1985 with this little
ditty from Boys Don't Cry, and believe you, me, “I Want to be a Cowboy…”

"I Want to be a Cowboy" by Boys Don't Cry fades in and
out again.

SCENE FOUR:

NO. 13 CECELIA BLVD. - MORNING

Mark comes home.

Mark: It's such a good feeling - to know
you're alive. It's such a happy feeling - when you're growing inside. And when
you wake up ready to say, 'I think I'll have a snappy new day.' (Mark has taken
off his shoes, and put on a cardigan and slippers.) Ahh... there's nothing like
a day to yourself. Kick back, relax and do absolutely nothing, with no fear of
interruption from keys scraping in the lock.

They
leave and a mysterious box enters of it's own volition. Mark enters, a bit
confused. He looks at the box and tries to pick it up. It shrieks and leaps
away from him. It then growls and begins to chase Mark. The phone rings. Mark
answers it.

Mark: Hello?

Voice on Phone: Hello, is this 49 avenue?

The parcel lurches at Mark. Mark's attention
is more on the parcel than the phone.

Luka: Hello. My name is Luka. I live on the
second floor. I live upstairs from you. I guess you never....

Mark kicks him out - literally.

Mark: Go away.

Phone rings.

Mark: Hello!!

Voice on Phone: Is this 49 avenue?

Mark: No this is not 49 avenue!

Voice on Phone: Oh, Okay. One moment please.

Pause.

Second Voice on Phone: Hello is this 49
avenue? I am looking for...

Mark: No this is not 49th aven...

Unseen by Mark, Mr. Bludfluke enters.

Second
Voice on Phone: No. You do not talk. You do not talk when I am talking. When I am talking, you do not
talk, you listen. Attend to me! Attend to me!

Mark: Okay, I'm sorry.

Second Voice on Phone: I'm not worrying. Just
one moment.

Mark: What? Do they travel in packs?

Pause. Mr. Bludfluke has a swig of orange
juice, which he immediately regurgitates back into it's container.

Third Voice on Phone: Hello?

Mark: Yes, I'm still here. Same wrong number.

Third voice on Phone: Is this 49 avenue?

Mr. Bludfluke stuffs a handful of
Jell-O-Flakes into his mouth and starts masticating.

Mark: No. No this isn't 49th avenue. This is Cecelia Blvd. Is
there a specific part of 49th avenue you wish to speak to? The crosswalk? A
manhole cover maybe? Or is there actually a specific house?

Third Voice on Phone: So this isn't 49
avenue?

Mr. Bludfluke tries to wash the Jell-O-Flakes
down with a mouthful of milk, but it too ends up getting returned to it's
container.

Mark:
No it isn't! What have I been telling you people? I mean what are you doing?
Randomly phoning numbers hoping that you will stumble upon somebody who lives
on 49th avenue? No! How foolish of me. (Mr. Bludfluke has found the remote
control. He is fascinated by it, continuously turning the TV on and off.)
You're phoning my number over and over, hoping that magically it will suddenly
change to 49th avenue. But would that help you? What if this was 49th avenue?
Okay, okay! This is 49th avenue. Now what do you want?

Third Voice on Phone: Oh, sorry wrong number.

Dial tone. Mark hangs up. Mr.
Bludfluke dives behind the couch. Mark returns to his breakfast. He picks up
the opened OJ.

Mark
returns to his cereal and pours a bowl. Mr. Bludfluke turns the TV on again.
Mark gets up. He walks to the TV. Mr. Bludfluke watches him. Mark whacks the
TV. As he does, Mr. Bludfluke turns it off. The phone rings. Mr. Bludfluke
escapes out the door. Mark turns to the phone. He stops himself. He lets the
phone ring. The phone rings. Mark unfolds the paper and reads it as he pours
his milk. The phone continues to ring. Mark has some cereal. The phone keeps
ringing. Mark continues eating. The phone rings faster. Mark looks at the phone
confused. The phone rings some more. Mark looks for the remote control. The
phone rings more insistently.

Click and dial tone. Mark approximately loses
his sanity. He hangs up.

Mark: Why can't I just have some peace and
quiet?

Knock at the door.

Mark: This had better be important. Come in!
(Enter Constable Chisholm.) What is it!? (As he realizes who he has just
hollered at, he switches from AC to DC.) Ah, Constable Chisholm, the local beat
cop who will play a crucial part in the play right at the climax. What can I do
for you today?

Constable
Chisholm: Oh I just came by to get introduced to the plot before I'm actually
needed. So as to reduce the cheesy nature of my deus ex machina like insertion
later in the show.

Mark: Well, you must have some real excuse to
be here rather than simply this self-aware intrusion into the action of the
play.

Constable Chisholm: As a matter of fact I do.
I'm looking for a person named Luka.

Mark: Ah, he lives on the second floor.

Constable Chisholm: He lives upstairs from
you?

Mark: Yes.

Constable Chisholm: I think I've seen him
before. If you hear something late at night....

Mark: Some kind of trouble, some kind of
fight?

Constable Chisholm: Just don't ask me what it
was.

Mark: Just don't ask you what it was.

Constable Chisholm: Thanks son.

Mark: You are my father!? You son of a bitch!
You've got a lot of nerve coming back here after what you pulled! Seventeen
years and you think you can just walk right back into my life....

Constable Chisholm shuts Mark up by
threatening him with his billy club.

Constable Chisholm: No no no - 'Son' in that
context is simply an affectionate nickname, not a declaration of relationship.

Mark:
What? Why that lousy little punk! I'm gonna take this right back right now and (He has gone to the VCR and is looking at it confused.)
What? Where's the eject button? What kind of stupid VCR doesn't have an eject
button? There's one on the remote control. I DON'T HAVE THE REMOTE CONTROL!

Phone rings.

Mark: Look, if you're calling for 49th
avenue, you had better just hang up right now 'cause you don't want to hear
what I have to say to you.

Teak: I got fired. I've been diagnosed as
having Ethyl's Disorder. Apparently I lack the critical enzyme in my saliva
which activates stamp glue. So they fired me! So, I'm walking down the street
with Zeffie talking about it and suddenly he turns to me and says, "The
chickens are back, I can feel them." So I turned. And there they were. We
ran, and right outside The Smudgy Pigeon, they ran into the light of the neon
sign and Bang! - they melted! Zeffie says to me, "Do you remember what we
did last time this happened?" I shook my head. He said, "Neither do
I." (Teak seems to think this is pretty significant and deep.)

Mark: Ah. A package came for you today.

Teak: You didn't touch it did you?

Mark: Yeah.

Teak: Excuse me.

Teak
exits to his room hurriedly. Mark sits down with the newspaper. There are
screams and gunshots heard in Teak's room. Teak returns.

Teak: Damn. Now I have to order another one.

He pulls out a form and begins to fill it out.

Mark: Was it dangerous?

Teak: Only to people.

Mark: Oh. Good.

Mark returns to his paper. Teak tries to lick his stamp.

Mark: Hey Teak, look at this.

Teak: Paper.

Mark: Yes, but look at this.

Teak: Newspaper.

Mark: Would you just read this!

Teak: Could you lick this for me?

Mark: Do you remember how Nigel's boss was killed last week?

Teak: Yeah.

Mark: Well listen to this. "In a strange
set of circumstances, an executive partner of Paul Behrir and Sons Advertising
has been found murdered. This is the second killing of a member of Behrir and
Sons staff this week. Police refuse to speculate if the crimes may be
related."

Teak: Whoa! Nigel had better watch out.

Mark: Yeah, he picked a dangerous place to
work. But wait, it continues.... Police have been unable to determine the cause
of death, but autopsies show that both victims had exceptionally high citric
acid content in their bloodstreams. The only evidence was a single sunglass
lens found at the scene."

Teak: Weird.

Mark: Yeah.

Nigel walks in wearing broken sunglasses. (One lens is missing.)

Nigel: Citizens.

Mark: Nigel, we were just reading about... Beyahhh!!!

Nigel: What's with you?

Teak: Mark's had one of his days.

Nigel: Ah.

Teak: People sure are dropping off like flies at your office,
huh?

Nigel: Yeah, just like flies,
baking in the sun. Hey, 'Canadian Trout Fishing…'

Mark: Teak… Teak… (He can hardly speak, he's
so scared.)

Teak: Are you losing your voice? You
shouldn't yell at the phone so much.

Nigel: Hey, were there any calls for me?

Teak: I don't know. I was being chased by
chickens.

Nigel: Ah. Mark? Any calls for me?

Mark: For - four - forty-ninth avenue....

Nigel: I see.

Nigel
puts down his glasses and picks up the paper. He's ambivalent about the
headline. Mark grabs the sunglasses and motions to Teak, pointing at the broken
lens.

Teak: Those are Nigel's. (Mark shakes his
head and points again.) Yes they are. (Mark shakes his head again.) Yes they
are! (Mark continues to indicate 'no'.) YES THEY ARE!

Nigel: Ahem.

Mark: We're just... going to play charades.

Teak: Cool!

Nigel: Alright. (Returns to paper.)

Mark points at glasses.

Teak: 'My eyes are blind I cannot see?'

Mark shakes his head. He motions as if
hanging himself by a rope.

­Teak: 'Hang 'em High!'

Mark refuses again. He slashes his throat with his finger.

Teak: 'I cut myself shaving?'

Mark shakes head and pretends to shoot
himself in the temple with his finger.

Teak: 'Bang bang, the British are coming!'

Mark is getting very frustrated. He begins to
strangle himself with his hands.

Teak: 'MY BALACLAVA IS ON FIRE!'

Nigel: Excuse me, I'm trying to read the paper!

Mark
looks at Nigel. He puts the glasses on Nigel. He looks from Nigel to Teak. Back
to Nigel, and again to Teak. He is desperately trying to telepathically tell
Teak what he is driving at.

Teak: (Clues in.) AAAAAAH! I have to do the
dishes!

Mark: I have to help Teak.

The pair run into the kitchen. It takes them
all of about four seconds to do the dishes. (SFX) They run out of the kitchen
and run out the door.

Teak: Bye.

Mark: Bye.

Nigel: Uh, bye.

Nigel is bewildered at his roommates
industriousness. He checks in the kitchen.

Nigel: Hey. Where'd that sink come from?

Scene.

BLACKOUT FIVE:

"Zombie" by The Cranberries fades in. It fades out.

Blair:
A little Zombie going out to you on this steamy afternoon. Outside the WFUZ
studios there's an ugly yellow-grey smog cloud. So if you can, hop on your bike
and leave the 'Beamer' at home. Update on the body found this morning. Police
have connected it to the slaying last week of a 39 year old man. All names are
being withheld, but both victims were employed at the same office. And
autopsies on the bodies reveal that both had exceptionally high citric acid
content in their bloodstream. Police have nicknamed the culprit "The
Scurvy Slayer." Now back to WFUZ flash in the pan radio.

"Criminal Mind" by Gowan fades in and out again.

SCENE FIVE:

THE SMUDGY PIGEON - AFTERNOON

Mark
and Teak are in the pigeon obviously drinking themselves silly as fast as they
can. Pat enters and picks up their empty beer bottles.

Mark and Teak: Umm! (Pat replaces them with full bottles.) Yeah.

Pat leaves.

Teak: Holy holy, man!

Mark: Yeah, shit.

Teak: Nigel's... killing people.

Mark: Yeah… Well, wait! We don't know that
for sure.

Teak: But his glasses…

Mark: Maybe he dropped them.

Teak: While struggling with a victim.

Mark:
OR getting on the bus, or running up a flight of stairs, or bending down to
pick up a dime. It could have happened a
thousand different ways.

Teak: But all of the victims are from his office.

Mark: Coincidence.

Teak: Nigel wanted all their jobs.

Mark: Yes, alright, but it's all
circumstantial. We don't KNOW that Nigel is killing people. I mean he was
always such a nice quiet boy who kept to himself.

Teak: No he wasn't.

Mark: Oh yeah. Shit. We better
find out.

Teak: We could ask him.

Mark: Go right ahead.

Teak: You go ahead.

Mark: It was your idea.

Teak: He's your friend.

Mark: He's your roommate.

Teak: He's your roommate too!

Mark: He eats your fish!

Teak: You hit him in the head with the
hamster!

Mark: Flip for it!

Teak: Call it.

Mark: Heads.

Teak flips a coin. He catches it, looks at it
and deliberately drops it.

Teak: Ooops! Call it.

Mark: Heads.

Teak tosses the coin into the air. It doesn't
flip. He catches it, and looks at it.

Teak: It didn't actually flip. (Mark sighs.)
Call it.

Mark: Heads!

­Teak flips the coin. Catches it, looks at it
and over reacts to some unseen, bogus influence.

Teak: Whoa! Did you feel that?

Mark: Give me that! Okay. Now, no matter how
it flips, or how it lands, the loser has to confront Nigel. Call it…

Teak: Tails! Ha!

Mark flips coin and looks at it.

Mark: Best two out of three?

Teak: No way! You said…

Mark: Alright…

Nigel enters.

Nigel: Citizens....

Teak and Mark: Hi Nige.

Nigel:
You guys left the house in such a hurry, I didn't know where to find you. But
then I thought... Smudgy Pigeon. Oh hey, good job on the dishes. PAT! VODKA!
MAKE IT A DOUBLE!

Pat enters, furious.

­Pat: Forget it Nigel. I've about had it with you. You haven't tipped
me once in the past three years you've been coming here, you - nkeg! - Teddy
bear!

Mark: Pat, give him the double.

Pat: Not a chance. I don't even want you in
here. If you aren't going to cough up, you can walk. I don't want to see you in
here again. Kapish - gnek! - Prince of
my heart!?

Mark: Pat…

Pat: Forget it. He can put it up out front,
or he can leave.

Mark: Here, here's his tip.

Nigel: Hey! Don't tip him for me.

Mark: Pat give me the money.

Pat: No way, you tipped me. It's mine.

Mark: I tipped for him, not me. Him. It was
just my money. His tip.

Nigel: It wasn't my tip. I don't tip.

Mark: You see? It wasn't a tip. Give it back!

Pat: You don't tip?

Nigel: I don't believe in tipping.

Pat: You don't believe in tipping?

Mark: You know what these guys make? They
make shit.

Nigel: Don't give me that. He don't make
enough, he can quit.

Pat: You don't care about counting on your tips to live?

Nigel:
Jesus Christ. I mean you aren't starving to death. You make minimum wage. I
used to make minimum wage, and when I did I wasn't lucky enough to have a job
society deemed tip worthy.

Mark: You don't have any idea what you are
talking about. These people bust their ass. This is a tough job.

Nigel:
So's working at McDonald's. But you don't feel the need to tip them. Why not?
They're serving you food. But no, society says don't tip these guys over here,
but tip these guy's here. That's ­bullshit.

Mark: Pat please. Get him his drink.

Pat: No.

Mark: Trust me, it's for your own good.

Pat: Not until I see a tip.

Mark: I already tipped you.

Pat: Right. Right.

Pat exits.

Teak: Mark…

Mark: Alright! Alright! I'm all over it.
Nigel?

Nigel: Yeah?

Mark: What happened to your glasses?

Nigel: Broke.

Mark: Yes, but how did they break?

Nigel: They fell off. Alright?

Mark: I see... um...

Nigel: What? Is there some kind of problem here?

Mark: No... Yes... Well... I don't know.

Nigel: You sound confused.

Mark: I am. I just... well, we... we were...

Nigel: Yes?

Mark: You haven't done anything rash lately,
have you?

Nigel: Like what?

Teak: Mark, just ask him if he did it.

Nigel: DID WHAT!

Mark: Well, there's been a lot of trouble
around your office lately...?

Nigel: Ahhh... I see. Yes. I did.

Mark & Teak: You did!?

Nigel: Yes.

Mark: Well, how can you be so blase about it?

Nigel: Blase? I'm not blase. As a
matter of fact I'm pretty damned happy with myself.

Mark: Happy with yourself!?

Nigel:
Yes! I realized something. I realized that there are two kinds of people in
this world, those who go out and get what they want, and those who don't. Those
who go out and get things go places in life, those who don't... don't!

Mark: So you started killing people.

Nigel:
Not without reason. I wanted their jobs, they were standing on my path to
success, so I eliminated them. Up until last week, I was someone who waited for
life to come to him. I used to be just like you.

Mark: ME!? Hey, I'm in school. What about
Teak? He's unemployed and couldn't hold down a job if he tried.

Teak: Hey!

Nigel: But he DOES try!

Teak: I try.

Nigel: You, you hide behind the veil of
school...

Teak: Veil of school.

Nigel: Working on bachelor of fuck all number
what?

Teak: What?

Nigel: Four?

Teak: Four?

Mark: Three!

Nigel: I took charge of my life. I saw something I wanted and I
took it.

Teak: Took it.

Nigel: Can you say the same? Aren't you proud
of me?

Teak: I'm proud of you!

Mark: Will you shut up?

Teak: Shutting up.

Mark: Proud of you? How can I be proud of
you? You're a cold-blooded killer.

Nigel: I'm a new man!

Mark: That's great. I really love the new
you. I'm really glad you searched your soul and found yourself. Tony Robbins
would be so proud. You just see something you want and you take it. Take, take,
take. That's all you ever do. Take, take, take. Do you see anything else you want?
Here, want Teak's beer? Take it!

Mark passes Teak's beer to Nigel.

Teak: Hey!

Teak takes Mark's beer.

Nigel: That's the idea!

Mark: Oh for Christ's sake.

Teak: How do you do it?

Nigel: Ever get lemon juice in a cut?

Teak: Ouch, yeah, that happened to my uncle
once.

Nigel: Imagine getting it injected straight
into your veins. Then, when it gets to your heart…

Mark: That's obscene.

Nigel: It leaves no obvious trace.

Mark: It's sadistic.

Nigel: (With a grand gesture.) I'd call it brilliant!

They
all freeze like at the end of a television episode. After a moment, Pat enters.
He picks up Teak's empty beer. He suddenly realizes that nobody else is moving.
He is confused. He pokes Teak. No response. He goes to Nigel and tries to take
his beer. It is firmly set in Nigel's hand. He gives up and spits in the bottle
before turning to leave. He notices something in Nigel's breast pocket. He
reaches in and pulls out a twenty dollar bill. He smiles, pockets it and
leaves.

Scene.

BLACKOUT SIX:

Blair:
The 235th caller to correctly tell me: From what movie comes the quote, “What
do you want to do with your life?" will win tickets to next Saturday's
opening of the Twisted Sister Reunion Tour! So now let's listen to this…

"We're Not Gonna Take It" by Twisted Sister fades in
and out again.

­SCENE SIX:

NO. 13 CECELIA BLVD. - EVENING

Mark
is watching X-Files. Mr. Bludfluke enters with the remote control and changes
the channel. Mark looks at him. Mr. Bludfluke laughs and leaves. Mark sighs as
if this has happened a hundred times within the past day. Which it has.

Mark: He's been so happy since he got the
remote control I just don't have the heart to take it away from him. I just
wish he'd change it to something other than the Shopping Network.

Teak looks frantically out of his room.

Teak: Mark! Mark!"

Mark: What? What is it Teak?

Teak: You didn't just see me leave here, did
you?

Mark: Mmmmm, no?

Teak: Good. Would you let me know if you do?

Mark: Uh, yeah, sure.

Teak: Thanks.

Teak renters his room.

Mark: Hey! Spray on hair! I've heard about
this stuff. I wonder if Nige'd like some for his Birthday? And it sure would
improve my self-esteem at the beach.

Teak, dressed in entirely different clothing enters from
outside.

Teak: Hi.

Mark: Uh, Hi Teak????

Teak
enters his room. There is a scream. His door opens. The new Teak comes out a
foot or so with a pair of arms wearing his original shirt strangling him. They
drag him back inside. Pause. Teak re-enters (from bedroom) and sits.

Mark: What was all that about?

Teak: What was what?

Nigel enters.

Teak: Hey Nige. Say, did you get that job you
killed for?

Mark swats him.

Nigel:
No. I did not get the job. I go to all the trouble of eliminating someone who's
job I want and then someone else gets the promotion. That's fine for them, but
what about me? I get nothing, after all that work and trouble. Maybe if I had
someone else kill somebody for me, then I'd get the promotion. Hell, I'd even
pay somebody for the service, if it worked. Hey! That's a great idea! Why don't
I start killing people for other people who want their jobs? I could start my
own job placement agency. And furthermore, it's justice. An unfair number of
young adults are saddled with dead-end nowhere jobs. Why? Because all of the
good jobs have been taken by people only a few years older than them, who are
too young to die any time soon. And by the time they do, those jobs will be
better filled by younger, more vital applicants. So this is a service to
society, by forcing openings in the job market for people who need them now.
Instead of allowing it to remain two walls of opportunity, one too soon and one
too late - evening out the imbalance. Giving us an opportunity to find a
worthwhile niche in society rather than being crushed between the gears of an
over-employed bourgeois. This employment agency is more than a job, it is a
duty, a mission, a campaign, a CRUSADE!!!! AAAAh ha ha hah ha !

Nigel exits. Teak and Mark look at each other
stunned. Teak's attention is caught by the TV.

Teak: Hey look! Pewter
Elvis statues!

Mark: Cool!

Scene.

NOTE:
If the need is felt to divide the play into two acts, this would be the place
to do it. I personally feel that it works best as a long one act.

BLACK OUT SEVEN:

Blair:
WFUZ Flash in the Pan Radio! Where all the artists who only had one crack at
fame, still get air time. Going into five in a row, from the class of '86, who
remembers this Flash in the Pan?

“Spirit in the Sky” by Dr. and the Medics fades in and out
again.

SCENE SEVEN:

THE STREET - NIGHT

There
is the sound of a struggle. A day-planner flies through the air, landing in a
pool of light under a street lamp. A man in a business suit stumbles out of the
darkness.

Victim: Who are you?

Nigel steps into the pool of light.

Nigel: I'm your worst nightmare.

Victim: What do you want from me?

Nigel: Shut-up!

Victim: Please don't hurt me.

Nigel: (Using a syringe to suck the juice out
of a lemon.) Don't worry, this isn't going to hurt…

Nigel:
Ah! Day-planner. Daily tool of yuppie oppressors everywhere. Let's see what we
have here. Hmmm. Tuesday. Take Cyril to Ace Dentura - Pet Dentist to fit him
for 'Kitty Caps.' (Tears out page. Victim is clearly distressed.) Wednesday.
Take the Audi to the brake specialist. Hmp. (Tears out page.) Today, Thursday!
Oh.

It appears you missed something here Career planning with the Scurvy Slayer!

Victim: Oh God. Everything you say… is
a cliche! I can't take it! (The victim tries to run.)

Nigel:
The pain ought to hit right about... Now! Followed by a ticklish feeling in
your thigh. Then you lose all control of your leg. As the spasms subside, the
lemon juice reaches your groin causing at first a feeling of pleasure, then
impotence and agony. Luckily, the lemon juice then makes you lose all feeling
in your lower body.

Nigel:
Then the lemon juice enters your stomach causing at first acute hiccoughs. Then
nausea and convulsions. It all stops for one brief moment, just long enough to
ask one final question.

Victim: Why?

Nigel: Well, most of my victims have one last
request.

Victim: No, I mean why are you doing this to
me?

Nigel: Oh. Sorry to waste your last moments
like that.

Victim: ARRRKGH!

Nigel: The calm before the storm has ended.
The lemon juice has entered your heart. It will all be over in just a moment.

Victim: ...rosebud...

(Dies. )

Nigel:
What the hell did he mean by that? Hmp. Ah well let's get you out of here. (He
lifts the body but slips and falls in an obscene position.) AAAAAAH! Shit.
Okay, get off. (He pushes the body away. It falls back on him. This continues.)
Get off. Get off! GET OFF!

Someone enters just short of the light. Nigel hears him.

Nigel:
Oh, God! Uh... why of course I love you dear! Heh, heh, uh here give me a kiss.
(He pulls the corpse's lips to his just as Teak steps into the light.)

Teak: Nigel!

Nigel: Teak! Oh thank God it's you.

Teak: Oh Nigel! Oh man, I'm really sorry....

Nigel: No, no Teak this isn't what it looks
like.

Teak: Look Nige…

Nigel: (Overlapping.) Teak, Teak! Oh God.

Teak: If you're in the closet, that's cool
and everything. But hey, (Pulls out a condom.) be safe man!

Sky: Oooh, it's Paddy the Sports Leprechaun. What if it's too hot out to play?

Paddy: We could still have hot dogs and beer!

Crew: Woo-hoo!

Sky: How right you are paddy.

Mr. Sneed: Uh, Sky could you read this please?

Sky: Oh my! It's Mr. Sneed the station manager. Now what
have we here? Oh, I see. Um, WFUZ Radio
would like to extend our deepest sympathy to the family of Blair Faire. He was
a good co-worker, loving husband, and great DJ for Flash in the Pan Radio. In
his honour, we would like to break format for a moment and play one of Blair's
favourite songs. And so, going out to the man who died so I could have his
job...

Crew: Woo-hoo!

Sky: Thanks guys. Here's some VanHalen,
'cause Blair would have wanted it that way.

SCENE EIGHT: NO.
13 CECELIA BLVD. - MORNING

"Jump"
by VanHalen is plays. Mark is eating a banana. He begins to tap his toe to the
music. He then begins to sing, using the banana as a microphone. When the
chorus comes, Teak bursts in from his bedroom using a broom as a guitar. They
sing and dance and airband together until the next chorus. Nigel walks in. The guitar
solo starts. They don't notice Nigel as they play air guitar. He watches them
act like idiots. He shakes his head and turns off the radio. Mark leaps to his
feet. Teak continues, oblivious to the lack of music.

Nigel: Citizens. (He kicks Teak, who jumps to his feet.) What’s
up?

Teak: We were just... jumping.

Nigel: Aren't we all. You wouldn't believe the night I just had.
I must have filled a dozen contracts by this morning.

Teak: Work is good?

Nigel: Too good. I'm completely bogged down.
And then I get jobs like the last one this morning.

Mark: Do we have to hear this?

Teak: What happened?

Nigel:
I got a client who was a fry cook at McDonald's so I had to dispose of his manager.
Now you wouldn't have believed this guy if you saw him. He must have been
scarfing down all of the reject burgers.

Nigel: You're already in too deep Teak. You
might as well make a little profit while you can.

Mark: I can't believe I'm listening to this.

Nigel:
Once more Nigel and Teak are dear friends, once more. To close the wall up with
those yuppie dead. In truth there's nothing so becomes a man as a modest job
and gainful utility. And when the cries of the unemployed blow in our ears,
then we shall imitate the action of the tiger. Thinning the herd and replacing
unfair nature with hard favoured occasion. Strike the iron while it's hot.
Seize your chance and make hay while the sun doth shine. You are without job
and I in need of aide. What could more nobly suit a man than to fight along
side his brethren 'gainst a common foe. So, band with me upon the usurpers and
I shall line your pockets with wealth to spare. At my arm you shall have the
knowledge in your soul that you have served a purpose higher than any seraph army.
So what say you? I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, straining upon
the start. So follow your instinct and upon this charge cry "God for
Scurvy, Nigel and his war!!!"

Teak: I'm in!

Nigel: Away!

Nigel and Teak rush out.

Teak: Kill!
Kill! Kill!

Nigel: From Hell's heart I stab at thee!

Mark: Help?

Scene.

SCENE NINE: EVERYWHERE - ALL OF THE TIME

As
"Eye of the Tiger" by Survivor plays, we watch Nigel and Teak kill
several generic professionals. (Possibly The Village People.) In between each
killing we see a newspaper headline spinning towards us like in cheesy movie
sequences. These headlines in order read: "Scurvy Strikes City!",
"Fourth Week of Terror!" and "Qh the humanity! 'Scurvy' slays
50th." At the end, Nigel and Teak dance together as money rains from the
sky.

Scene.

SCENE TEN: No. 13 CECELIA BLVD. - MORNING

Mark enters the apartment. Nigel and Teak are
dancing together among piles of
money on the floor.

Mark: What the hell is going on here? What's
all this money doing on the floor? It's a bloody mess!

Teak: Too busy.

Nigel: We haven't had time to clean up.

Mark: Is it just
me, or is that just a little ironic? Look, mid-terms are coming up, both my roommates
are homicidal maniacs…

Nigel: That's an exaggeration.

Teak: Nigel's a homicidal maniac, I'm just
hired help.

Nigel: We're businessmen.

Mark: (Grabbing
broom. Threatening with it.) Look! Point
is I'm too stressed out without having to clean up after the two of you.

Teak: Be careful with that broom Mark.

Mark: What? Are you afraid of a little broom
Teak?

Teak: Well, sort of.

Mark: Why?

Teak: My uncle got hit with a broom once. It
made him impotent.

Mark: No way?

Teak: Yeah.

Mark: That's bunk.

Teak: It's true. But he countered the effect.
(Teak grabs Nigel and holds him between Mark and himself.)

Nigel: How?

Teak: He went to the Wisdom Troll. Wisdom Troll told him to go to the person
who hit him with the broom and hit him back seven times. This reverses the
effect.

Mark: So if I hit you with this broom, you'd hit me back seven
times?

Teak: Yes.

Knock at the door. Nigel breaks away.

Nigel: Come in!

Elder Stan enters.

Stan:
Hello there, I'm Elder Stan. God has made room for you in his kingdom, and you
can read why in my new set of twelve books about infidelity, masturbation...

Teak: Wisdom Troll also says that it's lucky
to live in the same house as a mad man.

Mark: I don't feel very lucky.

Teak: He also invites good fortune into his
home by spreading dung through all his living areas.

Mark: Don't even think about it.

Nigel: (Re-entering.) Hey
citizens, look at this! It's in this morning's newspaper. “An unprecedented
phenomenon is sweeping the city. Death toll rises to a confirmed fifty four,
only one dozen shy of making the Scurvy Slayer the most prolific serial killer
in history. Perhaps more astounding than the sheer industriousness of the six
week rampage, is the public response. Young urban professionals who seem to be
the primary victims are outraged, and in most cases scared. However, younger
age brackets, adults in their twenties, are fascinated. They seem to look to
the Scurvy Slayer as some kind of hero - a Robin Hood for the Turn of the Century."
Isn't that great? A Robin Hood for the Turn of the Century?

Teak: Wait a second. If you're Robin Hood then who am I?

Nigel: Um, Tonto.

Teak: Cool. Tonto.

Mark: Nigel, you're kidding yourself. You
can't cover it up with heroic phrases. I don't care if you're the Braveheart -
William Wallace of serial killers. Self-made man or not, you're still sick.
Look, I think it's about time you step back and look at things from a fresh,
objective viewpoint.

Nigel: Oh my God! You're absolutely right. How could I be so
blind?

Mark: Good, so you're going to turn yourself
in?

Nigel: What? No. I'm going to expand to other
cities. Come on Teak, we're off to HappyMart. We're going to look into
franchising.

They exit.

Mark: In my own defense, I would like to
point out that I did not create the monster. I inadvertently fed it steroids,
but my hands are clean. I've been opposed right from the start. (He singles out
one audience member.) You, you saw it, you witnessed the whole thing. I'm
innocent. You can't blame a guy for turning a blind eye where friends are
involved. Can you? Can you? (Mark swats the person with the broom and runs
away, off stage.)

Sky: Sorry caller, she's got more than one
hit, I can't play that. Anything else?

Luka: Chumbawumba?

Sky: Now THAT I can do!

“Tubthumping” by Chumbawumba fades in and out again.

SCENE ELEVEN:

HAPPYMART - MORNING

Buddy is standing at the counter. He has a MondoMug (Big Gulp-esque drink
- a mocked up KFC container.) which he sips. Pause. He occupies himself. A
longer pause. He waits. Nothing happens. He smiles and nods at the security
camera. Pause.

Buddy: I've got a BA in anthropology.

Pause.

Buddy:
That must be how I got this job over all the other applicants. Now I get to put
my over qualifications to work nightly. Making coffee, maintenancing the
HappySlush machine when it makes the wrong consistency of HappySlush. I sit up
over night drinking far too much Coke, selling cigarettes to customers coming
out of the Smudgy Pigeon. Then, once the Pigeon closes, anyone who still wants
a drink comes over for a nice bottle of Listerine. Mouthwash? Aisle two. Aisle
Two? Farther! Past the tampons. It's really kind of depressing having to face
this side of humanity. Especially when you get shit on as hard as you do in my
position. No one respects the plight of the night shift convenience worker. I
work minimum wage and people expect me to pick up the difference of the few
pennies they're short for their M & M's. If I did that for everyone who
comes in here. I'd be working here for free. That MondoMug has gone right
through me. Excuse me.

Just as Buddy moves to go, the entrance bell
rings. Nigel and Teak barge in.

Nigel:
See Teak? This is where it's at. National franchising. HappyMart has stores right
across the country. I bet that the guy who came up with this convenience empire
has houses on both coasts, and every exciting city in between. Montreal,
Toronto, Vancouver...

Teak: Calgary!

Nigel:
I said exciting cities. See, what it's all about is standardizing and mass
production. Every MondoMug is the same, every HappySlush is the same.
unfortunately, so is every coffee.

Teak: Igh.

Nigel:
What we have to do is find some way to standardize our service. We'll have to
work on that. MMM! And while we're here we should pick up some more lemons.

Teak: Hey Buddy.

Buddy: Hey.

Teak: You alright?

Buddy: Fine thanks.

Teak: You're looking a little pale.

Nigel: Teak will you help me with these?

Teak tries to help. Chaotic physical comedy ensues.

Nigel: Teak?

Teak: Nigel.

Nigel: Teak!

Teak: Nigel?

Nigel: Teak!

Teak: Nigel!

Lemons end up all over the floor.

Nigel: Teak, pick those up! Buddy, lemons.
Ring 'em up.

Buddy: That will be $19.50.

Nigel: $19.50 for three lemons?

Buddy: There's been a strange glut in the
lemon market lately. Supply and demand.

Nigel: Right.

Teak: You sure you're alright Buddy? You look
a little tense.

Buddy: I uh... gnnn!

Nigel: You are looking a little stressed
Buddy. Job getting you down?

Buddy: MMMM.

Nigel: Well, you're in luck. Bet you didn't
know I've gone into business for myself.

Buddy: MMn?

Nigel: Got my own job placement
agency. You thinking of maybe working your way
up the HappyMart ladder?

Buddy: MMNH!

Nigel: Well, just sign right here and you'll
be manager in just ten days! (Pokes
Buddy who's bladder fails him.)

Teak: You sound relieved Buddy.

Buddy: You could say that.

Nigel: You ought to be. Soon you'll be Numero
Uno.

Buddy: I know what the first thing I'll do
will be.

Teak: What's that?

Buddy: I'm going to fix the
coffee so that the night shift employees don't have to drink so much damned
Coke to stay awake.

Teak: You can fix the coffee?

Buddy: I find your lack of faith disturbing.

Nigel: Buddy, if you can fix the coffee here,
you deserve a real reward. Tell you
what, we'll discount the service. One hundred dollars.

Buddy: Oh, money's no object.

Nigel: Alright. Five hundred it is. Come on
Teak, let's get a taco.

Teak and Nigel exit.

Buddy: I've still got two hours left in my
shift.

Scene.

BLACKOUT TEN:

Sky: Hello caller.

Buddy: Hello?

Sky: Who am I talking to?

Buddy: Am on?

Sky: Yes you're on.

Buddy: You mean I'm on the actual radio?

Sky: Yep, you're live. What's your name?

Buddy: Buddy at HappyMart.

Sky: Hey Buddy, welcome to the show. So, what
do you think about today's topic: "The Scurvy Slayer?"

Buddy:
He's cool. "The Scurvy Slayer" is giving new life and excitement to
this city. You don't know who's gonna die next. It could be me. It could be
you.

Sky:
I see. Well, I don't think it will be me Buddy. Tell me, how do you respond to
the suggestion that "The Scurvy Slayer" is only attacking established
professionals?

Buddy: More power to him. We need room.
They've got it coming. Those bourgeois
bastards can cram it up their…

Sky: Thank you
caller! (Aside.) Jesus Mike, where do you get these people?

SCENE TWELVE:

THE STREET - NIGHT

Teak is struggling home with the HappyMart manager's body in a
bag.

Teak: God this guy's heavy.

Constable Chisholm: (Entering.) Excuse me
Son.

Teak: Oh. Hello officer.

Constable Chisholm: You dropped this bloodied
shirt a ways back there.

Teak: Uh, thanks.

Constable Chisholm: That's quite the stain.
You might try putting some soda water
on that - or perhaps some lemon juice.

Teak: Thanks, I'll keep that in mind.

Constable Chisholm: Say, I just finished this
MondoMug from HappyMart. Mind if I put it in with the rest of your garbage?

Teak: Yeah, sure. No! No I can't.

Constable Chisholm: What do you mean you
can't?

Teak: Uh… the bag is all full. Isn't that
right bag? That's right! Say 'Hello' to the nice officer. Hello Mr. Pig, hello!

Constable Chisholm: It doesn't look that full
to me.

Teak: It's really very full. It just doesn't
look that way from the outside.

Constable Chisholm: Now how can that be?

Teak: It's very special garbage. It's extra
dimensional garbage. It takes up way more room than it looks like.

Teak: Negative. Negative. I have a reactor
leak in here now. Uh… large leak - very dangerous.

Constable Chisholm: Look Son, all I want is
the truth.

Teak: You can't handle the truth!

Constable Chisholm: Oh yeah tough guy?
We'll just have to see about that.

Teak: Aaaaah!

Teak charges at Chisholm.

Constable Chisholm: Whoa! Whoa Son! There's a
time and a place for violence.

Teak: (Turning his back on Chisholm.) Right.
You're absolutely right.

Constable
Chisholm: (Pistol whipping Teak from behind.) And that time is now! Now you
wait right there and leave your little parcel just right where it is.

He steps aside and talks on Walkie Talkie.

Constable Chisholm: Chisholm here.

Walkie Talkie: Gohda tou loh solo?

Constable Chisholm:
Tinderhousedogfacecabbagepatch.

Walkie Talkie: Soam peetah lay.

Constable Chisholm: Over and out.
Son, there's a matter I have to discuss with you.

Teak: I can explain.

Constable
Chisholm: There's a limit on the size of receptacle you can leave for the civic
garbage crews to take away. You can't leave that on the street for pick up.
You'll have to take it down to the transfer station yourself.

Chisholm turns to leave. He stops, he runs
the other way. He stops and runs back.
He pulls out Walkie Talkie.

Constable
Chisholm: Chisholm here. Where am I?

Scene.

BLACKOUT ELEVEN:

Sky: (Fading in.) …heard by five men named
Tony. At last report the priest was in stable condition, but the goats had to
be put down. (Music begins.) That's the
news. This is WFUZ Flash in the Pan Radio. All the world's great one hit
wonders on one station. And now a 23.5 minute Non-stop-flash-back-rock-block!

Music rises. "The Future's So Bright I
Gotta Wear Shades" by Timbuk 3. It fades out.

SCENE THIRTEEN:

No. 13 CECELIA BLVD. - NIGHT

Nigel is watching X-Files. Teak enters, body
on shoulder.

Teak: Nigel! Nigel!

Nigel: Ho! Calm down. Christ almighty! What
is this?

Teak: HappyMart manager.

Nigel: HappyMart manager! Teak, how many
times have I told you not to bring your work home with you? It's bad form.

Teak: I was in a big rush, man.

Nigel: Teak you're never in too big of a rush to dispose of a
body.

Teak: The cops are coming.

Nigel: It only takes five minutes to weigh a
body down and throw it in the river.

Teak: The cops are coming!

Nigel: A little care and attention to detail is the key to
success!

Teak: THE COPS ARE COMING!

Nigel: There's never time to do it right…
(Sirens wail outside.) but there's always... time... to... do it... again...? Did
you just say the cops are coming?

Squeal of brakes.

Teak: They're here!

Nigel: Great. Just great! Now what are we
supposed to do with this thing? If you had just got rid of it in the first
place.

Teak: But I had to come tell you that the
cops were coming.

Nigel: Nevermind. We just have to find some way to get rid of
this.

Nigel & Teak: Garbeurator!

They exit with body to kitchen. We hear them.

Nigel: Just stick his feet in there.

Teak: Okay.

Garbeurator noises. Blood squirts out of kitchen.

Nigel: Dammit, this isn't going fast enough!

Teak: What should we do?

Nigel: Look through the drawer to find something to cut it up
with.

Teak: Like what?

Nigel: Anything. Anything we can use to speed this up a bit.
Anything that will slice, dice or otherwise dismember this corpse.

Teak: How about this. It slices, it dices.
Look it will go right through this tin can, and it still cuts right through
this tomato!

Nigel: That's
not a tomato.

Teak: It kind of looks like a tomato.

Nigel: Just give me that. Here you use this
knife.

Teak: I can't.

Nigel: Just use it.

Teak: I can't.

Nigel: Just take it - cut pieces...

Teak: But... but I can't!

Nigel: Why the hell not?

Teak: You said I can't use your dishes. (Bong!
- The hollow sound of someone being hit with a pot.) Okay. I'll use it.

Mark has entered and looked around the living
room.

Mark: Holy cow! What are all those police
cars doing out there? Somebody must be in trouble. SWAT team, K-9 patrol. This
is going to be better than TV. Bad boys bad boys whacha gonna dooo....

Mark enters kitchen.

Mark: For crying out loud you guys, I told
you when you use my good knife to put it back in it's sheath… Oh my god!

Mark stumbles back into the living room
followed by more blood. He pukes behind the sofa.

Dale: (Offstage.) Guys? Guys, can you keep it
down out here? I'm trying to sleep. (Entering.) Guys? Guys? Hey Nige... (Phone
rings. He goes to the phone. Slips in vomit.) Shit. Who left this casserole on
the floor? (He picks up the phone.) Hello, Dale speaking, President of 49th
Avenue Consulting.

Scene.

BLACKOUT TWELVE:

"Right Here Right Now" by Jesus
Jones fades in and out again.

Sky: And now a WFUZ 23.5 second news update. Brought to you by HappyMart. Well folks,
it's over. Last night after a brief stand off, the police gunned down "The
Scurvy Slayer." Dead is Nigel DeMentia, confirmed to be responsible for at
least 55 deaths in this city over the past two months. Missing is Teak
Phlegming, one of "The Scurvy Slayer's" roommates. The other two,
Mark Bloe and Dale Vickery were questioned by the authorities and subsequently
released.

Pat: Yeah, I really meant that last part. I'll
get you that double now.

Pat exits.

Mark: Mind if I turn on the radio?

Pat: Go right the fuck ahead!

Mark
turns on the radio. It begins to play "Murder by Numbers" by The
Police. He switches stations. It plays "Empty Chairs at Empty Tables"
from Les Miserables. He quickly changes again. "I Just Died in Your Arms
Tonight" by Cutting Crew plays. Mark begins to sob and changes the station
again. He finds WFUZ....

Sky: Good news folks! Heat wave is over. We
can expect rain tonight to wash our streets clean of blood and lemon juice.
Here's a little EMF going out to Nigel, where ever he is. Hey Nigel, it's been
unbelievable!